CHAPTER IX
WET MOUNTAIN VALLEY
And now my story must skip over three whole years. There is so muchto tell you about Nelly, and her life in Wet Mountain Valley, that,if I do not skip a good deal, the story will be much too long. Thefirst year was a very happy and prosperous one. There were big cropsof wheat and hay, and they were sold for good prices, so that Mr.March had more money than he needed to live on, and he was sopleased that he spent it all for new things,--some new books, somenew furniture, and a nice new carriage much more comfortable forMrs. March to drive in than the white-topped wagon. Mrs. March feltvery sorry to have this money spent; she wanted it put away to keep;but, as I told you before, Mr. March always wanted to buy everything he liked, and he thought that there would always be moneyenough.
"Why, Sarah!" he said; "here's the land! It can't run away! and wecan always sell the hay and the wheat; and the cattle go onincreasing every year. We shall have more and more money every year.By and by, when we get things comfortable around us, we can lay upmoney; but I really think we ought to make ourselves comfortable."
So Mr. March bought everything that Billy said he would like to haveto work with on the farm, and he sent to Denver for books and forclothes for Rob and Nelly, and almost every month he added some newand pretty thing to the house. Thus it went on until at the end ofthe year, all the money which had been made off the farm was gone,and all their own little income had been spent too. Not a penny hadbeen laid up in the house except by Billy and Lucinda. They had laidup two hundred and fifty dollars apiece. They had each had threehundred and had spent only fifty.
"Luce," said Billy, "one more such year's this, an' we can takethat little house down to Cobb's and farm it for ourselves."
"Yes," said Lucinda, hesitatingly, "but I'd a most rather stay's weare. I don't ever want to leave Mrs. March 'n' the children; and you'n' I couldn't be together any more'n we are now."
"Why, Luce!" said Billy; and he walked out of the kitchen withoutanother word. He was grieved, Lucinda ran after him.
"Billy!" she said.
"What?" said Billy, chopping away furiously at a big pine log.
"I didn't mean that I wouldn't go if you thought best; only that Ihated to leave the folks. Of course, I expect we'll go when the timecomes. You needn't get mad."
"Oh, I ain't mad," said poor Billy; "but it sounded kind o'disappintin', I tell yer. I like the folks's well's you do; but aman wants to have his own place, and his children a growin' up roundhim; but I shan't ask you to go till you're ready: you may rest'sured o' that." And with this half way making up, Lucinda had to besatisfied.
Before the second summer was over, Mr. March was quite ready toacknowledge that it would have been wiser to follow his wife'sadvice, and lay up all the money which they did not absolutely needto spend. Just as the crops were well up, and bidding fair to be aslarge as before, there came all of a sudden, in a night, a greatarmy of grasshoppers and ate everything up. You little children inthe East who have seen grasshoppers only a few at a time, as youwalk through the fields in the summer, cannot have the least idea ofhow terrible a thing an army of grasshoppers can be. It comesthrough the air like a great cloud: in less than a minute, theground, the fences, the trees, the bushes, the grass, thedoor-steps, the outsides of the windows, are all covered thick withthem; millions and millions of millions, all eating, eating, as fastas they can eat. If you drive over a road where they are, they riseup in great masses, their wings making a whistling noise, and horsesare afraid to go along. Think of that: a great creature like a horseafraid of such little creatures as grasshoppers! Nobody wouldbelieve without seeing it, how a garden or a field looks after oneof these grasshopper armies has passed over it. It looks as bare andbrown as if it had been burned with fire. There is not left thesmallest bit of green leaf in it. This is the way all Mr. March'sfields looked in one week after the grasshoppers came into thevalley. All the other farmers' fields were in the same condition. Itwas enough to make your heart ache to look at them. After there wasnothing more left to eat, then the great army spread its wings andmoved on to the South.
Mr. March looked around him in despair. It had all happened sosuddenly he was confused and perplexed. It was almost like havingyour house burn down over your head. In one week he had lost a wholeyear's income. It was too late for the things to grow again beforethe autumn frosts which come very early in the valley.
This was real trouble. However, Mr. and Mrs. March kept up goodcourage, and hoped it would never happen again. They sold theirpretty new carriage and all the other things that they could spare,to get money to buy food for themselves and for the cattle; and theytold Billy and Lucinda that they could not afford to keep them anylonger.
"We must do all our own work this winter, Billy," said Mr. March;"if you don't get any thing better to do, I'll be glad of you nextsummer; but this winter we have got to be as saving as possible. Robwill help me, and Nelly'll help her mother: we must put ourshoulders to the wheel like the rest."
Billy was not surprised to hear this. On the morning thegrasshoppers appeared, he had said to Lucinda:--
"Luce, do you see those pesky varmints? They'll jest clean out thisvalley in about ten days, 'n' you 'n' me may's well pack our trunks.There won't be victuals for any extra mouths here this year, I tellyou; I shouldn't wonder if it jest about broke Mr. March up. Hehain't got any ready money to fall back on. He paid down about allhe had for this place, 'n' he's spent a sight this last year. Blamedif I don't wish I hadn't asked him for a thing. He's the generousestman ever was. It's a shame he should have such luck. I don't counton next summer nuther, for the ground'll be chuck full of the nastybeasts' eggs: ten to one they'll be worse next year than they arethis: there's no knowin'. We might's well get married, Luce, an' ifthere's any thing doing in the valley at all, I can allers get it todo."
So, early in the autumn Billy and Lucinda were married, and went tolive in "Cobbs's Cabin," a little log cabin about two miles from Mr.March's place, on the road to Rosita. The winter was a long and ahard one: hay was scarce and dear; and all sorts of provisions weresold at higher prices than ever before. The March family, however,were well and in good spirits. Nelly and Rob enjoyed working withtheir father and mother,--Rob in the barn and out in the fields, andNelly in the house. They still studied an hour every day, andrecited to their father in the evening. Rob studied Latin, and Nellystudied arithmetic; and their mother read to them every night a fewpages of history, or some good book of travels. Rob did not love tostudy, and did only what he must; but Nelly grew more and more fondof books every day. She did not care for her dolls any longer. Eventhe great wax doll which Mrs. Williams had given her was now veryseldom taken out of the box. All Nelly wanted to make her happy wasa book: it seemed sometimes as if it did not make much difference toher what sort of a book. She read every thing she could find in thehouse; even volumes of sermons she did not despise; and it was anodd thing to see a little girl twelve years old reading a big, oldleather bound volume of sermons. Rob used to laugh at her and say:--
"Oh, pshaw, Nell! what makes you read that? Read Mayne Reid'sstories: they're worth while. What do you want to read sermons for,I'd like to know?" And Nelly would laugh too, and say:--
"Well, Rob, they aren't so nice as stories; but I do like to readthem. It's like hearing papa preach."
To which Rob would reply, in a cautious whisper:--
"Well, I'm glad we don't have to hear papa preach any more. I hatesermons. I'm never going to church again's long's I live; and, whenI'm a man, I sha'n't make my boys go to church if they don't wantto."
The third summer began just as the one before it had begun, with agreat promise of fine crops; but they were no sooner fairly underway, than the grasshoppers came again, and ate them all up. This wasvery discouraging. Mr. March did not know what to do. He sold a goodmany of his cows; and, before the summer was over, he sold some ofhis books; but that money did not last long, and they were reallyvery poor. Now came the time when Nelly's lit
tle head began to befull of plans for earning money. She asked her mother, one day, tolet her go up into Rosita and sell some eggs.
Mrs. March looked at her in surprise.
"Why, Nell," she said, "you couldn't walk so far."
"Oh, yes, I could," said Nelly. "Rob and I often walk up to the topof the hill: it's only a little way from Billy's house, and we oftengo there; and I know I could sell all our eggs,--and some buttertoo, if we could make enough to spare. I'd like to, too. I think itwould be good fun."
"I'll ask your father," replied Mrs. March. "I don't think he'd bewilling: but if we could get a little money that way, it would bevery nice. We don't need half the eggs."
When Mrs. March told her husband of Nelly's proposition, his cheeksflushed.
"What a child Nelly is!" he exclaimed. "I can't bear to have her goround among those rough miners. I've often thought myself ofcarrying things up there to sell; but I thought my time was worthmore on the farm than any thing I could make selling eggs. Oh,Sarah!" he exclaimed, "I never thought we should come to such a passas this."
"Now, Robert, don't be foolish," said Mrs. March, gayly. "Thereisn't the least disgrace in selling butter and eggs. I'd as soonearn a living in that way as in any other. But I wouldn't like tohave Nelly run any risk of being rudely treated."
"I don't believe she would be," said Mr. March; "her face is enoughto make the roughest sort of a man good to her. You know how Billyworshipped her; and he's a pretty rough fellow on the surface. Ithink we might let her try it once, and see what happens."
And so it came to pass, that, early in the third summer of theirstay in Wet Mountain Valley, Nelly set off one morning at sixo'clock with a basket on her arm, holding three dozen of eggs andtwo pounds of butter, which she was to carry up into Rosita to sell.Rob pleaded hard to go too, but his father would not consent.
"Nelly will do better by herself," he said. "You will be sure to getinto some scrape if you go."
"I don't care," said Rob, as he bade Nelly good-by: "you just waittill trout time: see if I don't make him let me go then. I can makemore money selling trout than you can off eggs, any day. A gentlemantold me one day when he drove by where I was fishing, one day lastsummer, that he'd give me forty cents a pound for all I had in mybasket; and I told him I wasn't fishing to sell: I was real mad. Ididn't know then we were going to sell things; but, if we are, I mayas well sell trout; the creek's full of them."
"Well, we are going to sell things, I tell you," said Nelly: "Idon't know what else there is for us to do. We haven't got anymoney; I think papa's real worried, and mamma too; and you and I'vejust got to help. It's too bad! I don't see what God madegrasshoppers for."
"To catch trout with," said Rob, solemnly: "there isn't any thingelse half so good."
Nelly laughed, and set off at a brisk pace on the road to Rosita.Her father stood in the barn door watching her. As her little figuredisappeared, he said aloud:--
"God bless her! she's the sweetest child a man ever had!"
It was almost five miles from Mr. March's house to Rosita. For thefirst half of the way, the road lay in the open valley, and had noshade; but, as soon as it began to wind in among the low hills, ithad pine-trees on each side of it; the little house where Billy andLucinda lived stood in a nook among these pines. Nelly reached thishouse about seven o'clock, just as Billy and Lucinda were finishingtheir breakfast. She walked in without knocking, as she always did.
"Bless my soul alive!" exclaimed Billy. "Why, what on airth bringsyou here, to this time o' day, Nelly?"
Nelly had placed her basket on the floor and sat down in a rockingchair and was fanning herself with her sun-bonnet. Her face was veryred from the hot sun, but her eyes were full of fun.
"Going up to Rosita, Billy," she said. "Guess what I've got in thebasket."
"A kitten," said Lucinda: "your mother promised me one."
"Oh, dear, no!" said Nelly; "a weasel ate them up last Saturdaynight: all but one; and that one the old cat must keep. Guessagain."
Billy did not speak. He guessed the truth.
"Your luncheon," said Lucinda.
"Yes," said Nelly, "my luncheon's in there, on the top; butunderneath I've got eggs and I've got butter. I'm going to sell themin Rosita, and mamma said I was to stop and ask you what price Iought to tell the people. She didn't know."
Billy walked hastily out of the room and slammed the door behindhim. This was what Long Billy always did when he felt badly aboutany thing. His first idea was to get out in the open air. Lucindalooked after him in astonishment. She did not think of any reasonwhy he should feel sorry about Nelly's selling the butter and eggs,but she saw something was wrong with him.
"Why, you don't say so, Nelly!" she replied. "Well, I dare sayyou'll make a nice little penny. Eggs is thirty cents, and butterthirty-five to forty: your mother's ought to be forty. What're yougoin' to do with the money?"
"Why, it isn't for myself!" said Nelly, in a tone of greatastonishment: "it's for papa and mamma. I don't want any for myself.But you know we don't have hardly any money now; and I asked mammato let me see if I couldn't get some in Rosita. Rob's going to selltrout too, by and by: as soon as they're plenty."
Billy came back into the room now; and, looking away from Nelly, hesaid:--
"See here, child: you let me carry them things up to town for ye. Yestay here with Luce. I've got to go up anyway to-day or to-morrow.It's too fur for ye to walk."
"Oh, no, Billy, thank you!" said Nelly. "It isn't too far. I'veoften and often walked up to the hill where you look right into thestreets. And I want to go; I wouldn't miss it for any thing."
"Well, I'm goin' along with yer, anyhow," said Billy. "Luce, you getme that flour-sack." And, as Lucinda went into the closet to get it,he followed her in and shut the door.
"Ain't that a shame, Luce," he said, "to have that little thing goround sellin' eggs? I expect they're awful hard up, or they wouldn'tever have done it. I tell you it jest cuts me. Mr. March don't knowthem miners 's well's I do. I shall tell him it ain't no place forgals."
"You're jest off all wrong now, Billy," replied Lucinda. "It's youthat don't know miners. There wouldn't a man in Rosita say a roughword before Nelly no sooner'n you would. They'll jest all take toher: you see if they don't. And it's a real sensible thing for thechildren to do. I've been thinking o' doing the same thing myself.There's lots o' money to be made off eggs."
Billy was unconvinced; but he was too wise to say so.
"Well, well," he said, "we shall see. I'll go up with her to-day,and tell her which houses are the best houses to go to. If she'sgoing to do it regular, she'd better have regular houses, and not bea gaddin' all about town, knockin' at doors. Oh, I tell you, Luce,it just cuts me! I can't stand it."
"Well, I don't see nothin' so very dreadful in it," replied Lucinda."The gal's got the sense of a woman: she'll look out for herself aswell as if she was twenty; and there's lots o' money to be made offeggs; I tell you that."
Nelly trudged along by Billy's side as cheery as a lark. She showedhim a little brown silk bag she had to bring home the money in; itwas in a pocket in her petticoat, and she had to lift up her gown toget at it.
"Mamma put that in yesterday," she said: "I asked her to. I saw alady in the cars once, Mrs. Williams: such a beautiful lady,--shegave me that big wax doll. She carried all her money in a pocket inher petticoat, under her gown; because, she said, nobody could getat that to steal it."
Billy laughed immoderately. The idea of a little girl's pocket beingpicked on the road from Rosita down into Wet Mountain Valley wasvery droll.
"Well, Nelly," he said, "you've got a long head o' your own; but Ireckon you took a little more pains than you needed to, that time.Nobody's goin' to think o' such a thing as pickin' your pockethere."
"Mamma thought it was a very good plan," said Nelly, with an air ofdignity; "and I think so too. Men can't tell about women's pockets:pockets in trousers are much harder to get at." At which Billy onlylaughed the harder; and at
night, when he went home and toldLucinda, he had another fit of laughter over it.
"To think o' that little mite standin' out to me that I couldn'tjedge about women's pockets, pockets in trousers was so different!Oh, Lord!" said Billy, stretching his long legs out on the woodensettee: "I thought I should ha' died. You was right though, Luce,about the men. I'll own up. That child can go from eend to eend o'thet town safe's if she was one o' the Lord's angels in white,--ifthat's what they wear,--an' wings on her shoulders: only I never didbelieve much in the wings. But you oughter've seen how the menlooked at her. You know she's got a different look about her somehowfrom most gals: she ain't pretty, but you can't take your eyes offher; an' she's so pretty spoken: that does it, more'n her looks.When we come by the stamp-mill, at noon, the men was all pourin'out; and afore I knew it we was right in the midst on 'em: a runnin'an' cuffin' and tumblin' each other, and not choosin' their wordsmuch. Nelly she took right hold o' my hand, but she never saidnothin'.
"'Hullo, sis,' sez Jake Billings; and he pushed her littlesun-bonnet back off her head. I declare I'd a notion to knock himover; but Nelly she looked up at him an' jest laughed a little, andsez she:--
"'Oh, please, sir, don't: you'll make me drop my eggs.' And helooked as ashamed as I ever see a man. And he put her bonnet rightback on her head agin, and sez he:--
"'Let me carry 'em: won't ye, sis?'
"Ye see she wouldn't let me so much's touch the basket all the way,though I kept askin'. She said she was goin' to carry it always, an'she might as well begin; an' it wan't heavy; but I know 'twas, forall her sayin' 'twan't, heavy, that is, for her little pipes o'arms.
"'No, thank you,' said she to Jake: 'Billy wanted to carry them forme; but I wouldn't let him. I like to carry them all the way myself,to see if I can. I'm going to come every week, perhaps twice aweek.'
"'Be ye?' said Jake. 'Whose little gal are ye, and where do yelive?'
"Then I told him all about her folks; and all the rest o' the menthey walked along with us 's quiet and steady you wouldn't ha' known'em; and Jake he took her right into that Swede's house, you know:Jan, the one that boards some o' the hands."
"Oh, yes!" said Lucinda; "and Ulrica, his wife's the nicest womanamong the whole set."
"Well," continued Billy, "Jake he took her right in there. 'Jan'llbuy all your eggs,' sez he: 'he's allers wantin' eggs.' I followedon: Nelly she was goin' with Jake, jest as if she'd ha' known himall her life; but she looked back, an' sez, in that little voice o'hern, jest like the sweetest fiddle I ever heard:--
"'Come along, Billy,' sez she, 'and see if I can't sell eggs.'
"An' as soon as she got inter the house, she walked right up toUlrica, and held out her basket, and sez:--
"'Would you like to buy some eggs to-day, ma'am? I'm selling 'em formy papa and mamma: and they're thirty cents a dozen.'
"Ulrica don't understand English much, and Nelly's words didn'tsound like the English she was used to; an' she couldn't make herout: but Jan he stepped up, and explained to her; and then Ulricatook hold o' Nelly's long braids o' hair, and lifted 'em up, andsaid something to Jan in their own language; an' he nodded his head,an' looked at Nelly real loving: and sez to me, in a whisper like:--
"'The wife thinks she looks like our little Ulrica: and she ain'tunlike her, that's true; though she's bigger'n our little girl whenshe died.'
"All this time Nelly was a lookin' from one to the other on 'em withher steady eyes, an' makin' 'em out. They took all her eggs; but thebutter they said she'd better take up to Mr. Clapp's, the owner o'the Black Bull Mine. Mis Clapp was very particular about her butter,an' 'd give a good price for it. So we went up to his house; andjust as soon as Mis Clapp sot her eyes on Nelly, I could see how shetook to her, by the way she spoke: an' she took the butter an' paidher the eighty cents; and you'd oughter seen Nelly a liftin' up hercaliker gown to get to her petticoat, and drawin' out her littlesilk bag, an' putting in the money,--countin' it all as keerful asany old woman. Mis Clapp she laughed, and sez she:--
"'You're a real little business woman: ain't you?'
"'Yes'm,' sez Nelly, as grave as a jedge, 'I'm goin' to be. Wouldyou like some more butter next week? I can bring some on Saturday.'
"Then Mis Clapp she jest engaged three pounds a week regular: an'Nelly thought that'd be all they could spare now."
"Pshaw!" interrupted Lucinda: "Mis March ain't no hand to skimp: butthey might spare four's well's not."
"Well," said Billy, "I guess they will when they see the money acomin' in so easy. That'll be one dollar and sixty cents a week; andthe eggs'll be say one dollar an' eighty more: that'll putty nighkeep 'em in meat 'n' flour. I'm real glad they thought on't. But Iexpect it goes agin Mr. March dreadful. That gal's the apple o' hiseye: that's what she is."
"Well, he might go hisself, then," said Lucinda, scornfully, "if hethinks it's too lowerin' for his gal: I don't see nothin' to beashamed on in't myself. If sellin' is honorable business for men, Idon't see why it ain't for women 'n' gals."
"Now, Luce," exclaimed Billy, "don't be contrary. You know's well'sI do what I mean. There's plenty o' things you don't want gals to dothat's honorable enough, so fur's thet goes. But I must tell ye whatUlrica did 's we were comin' out o' town. There she stood waitin'in her door. She'd been watchin' for us all the arternoon; an' 'ssoon's she see us, she began a beckonin and a callin'; an' wecrossed over, 'n' there she hed a little picture o' their gal thatwas dead; an' sez she, holdin' it up to me an' pointin' to Nelly:--
"'Is it not the same face? Do you not see she haf the same face asmine child?' And then she gave Nelly such a hug and kiss, and Nellyshe kissed her back just as kind's could be, and sez she:--
"'I am glad I look like your little girl; but you mustn't cry, or Ishall not come again.'
"'Oh, yes, yes, come again: all days come again!' sez Ulrica: andshe was cryin' too all the time. Then she gave Nelly a paper bagfull of queer little square cakes with a picture stamped on 'em.They have 'em at Christmas, she said, in her country. Nelly wan'tfur takin' 'em; but I nudged her, 'n' told her to take'em,--Ulrica'd be hurt if she didn't. After we got away from thehouse, Nelly sez to me, kind o' solemn, sez she:--
"'Billy, I don't like to look like so many dead little girls. Isn'tit queer? That was what Mrs. Williams said,--that nice lady: sheused to cry, and say I looked like her little girl that was dead;and now it's a little girl way off in Sweden. Isn't it queer?"
"But I tried to put it out of her head; but she kept talking aboutit all the way. I think people needn't say such things to children;it jest makes 'em gloomy for nothing."
The account Nelly gave to her father and mother of her day in Rositawas almost as graphic as Billy's. She had thoroughly enjoyed theday. She was pretty tired; but not too much so to have a finescamper with Rob and the pet deer in the paddock after tea. And theair castles that she and Rob built that night after they had gone tobed were many stories high. Nelly was sure that if her mother wouldonly make butter enough, and her father would buy some more hens,she could earn all the money they needed to have.
"Why, Rob," she said, "you see I had more than two dollars to-day;and the basket wasn't a bit heavy: I could have carried twice asmuch. If I could make four dollars each day, don't you see how soonit would be hundreds of dollars? hundreds, Rob!"
"Yes," said Rob; "and I could make as much more by the trout: andthere would be hundreds and hundreds. And strawberries, Nell!Strawberries! why couldn't we sell strawberries? Old Mr. Pine saidwe could have all we could pick."
"I thought of that," replied Nelly; "but we haven't any horses nowto carry us over there. You know we always went in the wagon."
"Pooh!" said Rob, "we could go just as well in the ox-cart."
"But wouldn't it take all day to get there?" said the wise Nelly:"to get there and back?"
"Oh," said Rob, "I never thought of that. Perhaps Mr. Scholfieldwould lend us his horses some day."
"I don't believe papa would--like--to--borrow," said Nelly,drowsily; and
in a second more she was sound asleep.
Mr. and Mrs. March, also, were building some air castles, resting onthe same foundations as Rob's and Nelly's. Nelly's happy andanimated face when she returned, and her enthusiastic account of herday's work, had surprised both her father and mother.
"I thought she would be so tired out she would never want to goagain," said Mrs. March; "but she is full of the idea of going twicea week, all the time."
"The exercise is not bad for her," replied Mr. March, hesitatingly:"I have no fears about that. And I suppose it is a false pride whichmakes me shrink so from letting her carry about things to sell. Weare very poor, and we do need the money; and the child's impulse tohelp us is a true and noble one; but I can't be wholly reconciled tothe idea yet. If we do permit it, I shall keep an exact account ofevery penny the dear child brings into this house; and, if we areever in comfortable circumstances again, I shall pay it all back toher with interest. I have made up my mind to that."
"It will be a nice fund to pay for her having a year or two at somegood school, when she is older," said Mrs. March, cheerfully; "and Ido not feel as you do about her selling things. I think it willnever do her the least harm in any way. Some of the best and noblestpeople in the world have gone through just such struggles in theiryouth. I see no disgrace in it: not the least; and I have perfectfaith in Nelly's good behavior under all circumstances."
"Yes," said Mr. March, "she can be trusted anywhere. I only wish Robhad half her steadiness of head."
"Rob will come out all right," said Mrs. March: "you don't dojustice to him. His heart is in the right place."
Mr. March laughed.
"You never will hear a word against Rob," said he.
"Nor you against Nelly," replied Mrs. March. "Now I think Nelly'sobstinacy is quite as serious a fault as Rob's hasty impulsiveness."
"Nelly's obstinacy!" exclaimed Mr March: "what do you mean? I neversaw a trace of it."
"No: you never would," said Mrs. March, "because you never haveoccasion to deal with her in little matters. To me she is alwaysobedient; but with Rob she is as unyielding as a rock in the mosttrifling matters. When they were little it was quitedifferent,--while he was ill so much, you know; then she used togive up to him so much I thought it would spoil him. But now sheliterally rules the boy; and I can't help it. Why, the other daythey had a really serious quarrel as to where their hair-brushesshould be kept. I don't know what made Rob stand out so: usually hegives up. I did not interfere, because I wish them to settle allsuch matters themselves; but I heard Nelly say:--
"'Rob March! you can move those hair-brushes just as often as youplease: it won't make the least difference. I shall move them rightback again into this drawer, if it's every day of your life tillyou're fifty years old!'
"'I sha'n't live with you when I'm fifty,' said Rob: 'so you'll haveto leave off before then. And I won't have the hair-brush box in thedrawer. It doesn't look bad on the top of the bureau; and I want itwhere I can get at it easy.'
"'I'll take it out for you,' said Nelly, 'as often as you want it,if you're too lazy; but it's going to be in the drawer.'"
Mr. March laughed heartily.
"Well, wasn't Nelly right?" he said. "If I recollect right, the boxis a shabby old box, much better out of sight."
"Oh! of course you'd take Nelly's part," said Mrs. March, halfplayfully, half in earnest.
"Well, which won?" said Mr. March.
"Oh, Nelly, of course. She always does," replied Mrs. March.
"I'm glad of it," laughed Mr. March. And there the conversationdropped.
The next day Nelly followed her father out to the barn afterbreakfast.
"Papa," said she, "I want to ask you something."
"What is it, little daughter?" he replied.
"If I could get four dollars each time I went to Rosita, and shouldgo twice every week, how much would that be in a year?" said Nelly.
"Four hundred dollars, my child," replied Mr. March.
"Is not that a good deal of money?" said Nelly: "wouldn't it buyalmost all we want?"
"It would buy enough food for us to eat, dear," said Mr. March: "notmuch more than that."
"Well, Rob could get a good deal for trout too," said Nelly,resolutely: "he's going to fish, next week: and they're forty centsfor one pound; and I'm going to take Rob up with me, the next time,and show him how to sell things. It is very easy."
"Do you like it, Nell,--really like it?" said her father.
"Oh, yes!" replied Nelly; "it's splendid! It's the nicest thing Iever did. I like to see the people, and to count the money; and thenit is so nice to help too, papa! Oh! you will let us help: won'tyou?"
"Yes, my child, we will let you help us this summer, because we arereally very poor just now; but I hope next year we will not be insuch straits. You and Rob are dear, good children to want to work.Papa will never forget it."
Nelly put her hand in her father's, and walked along in silence byhis side for a few minutes. Then suddenly catching sight of Rob inthe field, she exclaimed:--
"Oh! there's Rob going down to the creek now to fish. I will go andtell him it is all settled. I can help him fish. I shall put thegrasshoppers on the hook: I hate it, and I said I'd never do itagain; but now that it's for the money, I shall." And she ran off asfast as she could, to join Rob.
All that morning Rob fished and Nelly stuck grasshoppers on the hookfor him. At noon, they were miles away from the house: they hadfollowed up the creek without noticing how far they were going.
"Oh, dear!" said Rob, looking up at the sun, "look at that old sun:he's just galloped all this morning. I think his horses are runningaway. Did papa show you that picture of him in the 'Mythology'? Itwas a splendid man, in a chariot, standing up, and driving fourhorses. They thought the sun was really a man. Say, Nell, let'sdon't go home yet."
"I'm so hungry!" said Nelly, whose share of the amusement was not soexciting as Rob's.
"Pshaw!" said Rob: "I wonder what's the reason girls get hungry somuch sooner than boys."
"They don't," said Nelly, doggedly: "they've got stomachs justalike. You're as hungry as you can be; only you won't say so. I knowyou are."
Rob did not deny it; in fact, as soon as Nelly had said the word"hungry," he had begun to feel a dreadful gnawing in the region ofhis stomach.
"I'll tell you, Nell," he exclaimed: "we'll cook a trout on a hotstone. I know how. Billy did it one day last summer. You just get alot of dried sticks and things, and pile them up; and I'll find aflat stone."
In a few minutes, they had a big fire, and a large flat stonestanding up in the hottest part of the blaze.
"There!" said Rob, rubbing his hands: "now you'll see a dinner fitfor a king. We'll have a trout apiece."
"Good big ones!" said Nelly. "How do you tell when the stone is hotenough?"
"Oh! if it burns a stick to hold it on it, it's too hot, and you letit cool a while," replied Rob, with a patronizing tone; as much asto say, "Girls did not know much about cooking on hot stones."
Girls knew more about getting hot stones out of fires, however,than boys did, in this instance. Poor Rob burnt his fingers badly,trying to pull the stone out by taking hold of it with a handful ofthick green leaves.
"Oh, Rob! Rob!" screamed Nelly: "you'll burn you!"
But it was too late. Rob had grasped the stone with all his usualimpetuosity, and the leaves had shrivelled up instantly, likecobwebs, the stone was so hot. He let it fall back into the fire,and danced about, shaking his burnt fingers, and screwing up hisface very hard, to keep from crying.
"Oh, that was too bad, Rob!" cried Nelly. "Why didn't you let me getit out?"
"You get it out!" cried Rob, quite angry; "you get it out! I'd liketo see you! That's the way Billy took his out. There isn't any otherway."
Nelly had run off a few steps for a big stick. Presently she cameback; and, without saying a word to Rob, put the end of the stickunder the stone, and lifted it up and rolled it over and over, tillshe had it entirely o
ut of the ashes and hot brands, and on asmooth, clean place in the grass. Then she took a little twig, andheld it close to the stone, to see if it were still hot. The twigsmoked.
"Oh! it's lots too hot," said Rob, meekly. "What made you think ofthat way of getting it out, Nell?"
"I don't know," said Nelly: "your burning your fingers, I guess."
Then they cut open two nice trout, and Rob scraped them clean withhis knife; and, as soon as the stone was cool enough, they laid themon the hot stone. Oh, how good they smelled as soon as they began tocook, and the fat began to ooze out! When the under side was niceand brown, Rob turned them over with two sticks carefully; and, in afew minutes more, they were done. Then he stuck a pointed stickthrough the biggest one, and handed it very politely to Nelly,saying:--
"Won't you be helped to some fish, Miss Nelly March?"
Nelly held out two pointed sticks to take it; and then she ran roundand round with it, for a minute, to cool it; and then she took it bythe tail and ate it up in less time than it has taken to write thispage. Rob ate his more slowly.
"Oh, I wish we had cooked four," said Nelly.
Rob looked at his basket. It was not much more than half full.
"I can't fish any more," he said: "my fingers hurt so. Don't let'seat up any more. We can have a good supper when we get home. Let'skeep all these to sell."
"Of course we will, Rob," said Nelly, quite ashamed: "I was a pig."
"Pigs don't eat trout, I guess," said Rob laughing.
"No," said Nelly; "but they always want more. I was a real pig. Nowlet's hurry home. I'm afraid we're a long way off."
"Well, they know we're fishing," said Rob: "they won't worry. It'sgood mamma's got over worrying about my falling into the creek."
Nelly's Silver Mine: A Story of Colorado Life Page 9